By Anyone's Rules
by potionwine
Summary: A love story told in reverse. Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru is 30 and newly widowed. Even from the grave, Kyouya keeps the promises he made. #1 in the Movie Adaptations Series – based on P.S. I Love You.
1. Prologue

**Title:** By Anyone's Rules

**Pairing:** Kyouya/Kaoru

**Disclaimer:** Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Hatori Bisco and related companies.

**Spoilers:** The entire manga and anime

**Summary:** A love story told in reverse. Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru is 30 and newly widowed. Even from the grave, Kyouya keeps the promises he made. #1 in the Movie Adaptations Series – based on P.S. I Love You.

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><p><em><strong>Let's not play by anyone's rules. Not even those that we've set for ourselves or each other.<strong>_

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

.**  
><strong>

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,  
>Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,<br>Silence the pianos and with muffled drum  
>Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.<p>

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead  
>Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,<br>Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,  
>Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.<p>

He was my North, my South, my East and West,  
>My working week and my Sunday rest,<br>My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;  
>I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.<p>

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;  
>Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;<br>Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.  
>For nothing now can ever come to any good.<p>

_W.H. Auden_

.

**(Thursday 7 September 2023, 30 years old, New York City)**

A day before the fashion show of the designer label Flamingo&Maya, Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru receives a phone call.

He answers.

He is not sure what happens after that.

He cannot regain his memory of it, and he never will.

This is what he knows as narrated to him four months later by Hikaru, who'd been an eyewitness: his face had taken on an ashy pallor, his eyes had dulled to an opaque blindness, and he'd looked hollow and fragile like a cracked seashell.

Hikaru will say that he'd taken the mobile from Kaoru's frozen hands, and that he'd never, ever felt more like he had to be an older brother to his twin than at that particular moment.

They'd gone to the hospital, away from the atelier in full knowledge that they're going to crack their heads open on the looming, unforgiving deadline of the show. Hikaru will say that Kaoru's mute stillness had frightened him unlike anything else he'd experienced. Hikaru will say that he'd needed Tamaki and Mori to be present like a physical ache, to tell him what to do, to help him hold Kaoru while he shatters apart. Hikaru will say that he'd been at a loss, at once hurting for his brother and mourning his brother-in-law.

Hikaru will say that –

After they'd identified the body – yes, it'd been a body and not a patient that had been waiting for them – Kaoru had turned away without emotion (as though nothing could register in his brain), and had returned promptly to the atelier to rush out the final uncompleted pieces with his usual acuity and flair. Not a soul at the atelier had suspected a thing.

The models had strutted the catwalk, the designers had taken their bow – Kaoru even had a passable stage mask plastered on – the esteemed audience had been air-kissed and mingled with.

At this point of the story, Hikaru will say that he can only guess at the following events because he'd been stupid enough to let Kaoru out of his sight for three seconds when he'd had to give instructions to the backstage team. It appears that Kaoru had gone to Hikaru's suite at the Roi Grand and swiped his passport, dyed his hair black, called for the Cessna and flown straight to Tokyo using Hikaru's identity.

Hikaru will say that he had been so out of his mind with worry that it had taken him _an entire hour_ to realise why Kaoru hadn't used his own passport – because it would have required Kaoru to return to the penthouse on Fifth Avenue, the home that he'd made with Kyouya.

So, attempting to be responsible, Hikaru had pushed through his grief to arrange for his brother-in-law's body to be brought back to Japan, only to be told that even the vast wealth and power of a Hitachiin cannot override the coronial examination that _must _be undertaken by the OCME in cases of homicide. Caught between conflicting familial duties, he'd (of course) wanted to put Kaoru first but had also understood that Kaoru would need someone to attend to these matters, himself not being in a position to cope with it; it'd driven Hikaru to despair and desperation, and –

Wonderful, _amazing _Haruhi had shown up. With her gentle understanding of the torture of losing a loved one, the future doyenne of the Suou Empire – in America without her husband to investigate a recent lawsuit brought against Roi Grand by an ex-employee for negligence, and visiting old friends from Harvard – had relieved Hikaru of his burden and allowed him to tear off after Kaoru.

Hikaru had found his twin, catatonic with pain, hiding in the little attic that used to be their safehouse.

.

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><p>.<p>

Notes

(a) The opening poem by W.H. Auden is commonly titled 'Stop all the clocks' or 'Funeral Blues'.

(b) The New York Fashion Week is the first week of September (Spring/Summer), and first week of February (Fall/Winter).

(c) Kaoru and Kyouya are legally married. Same-sex marriage became legal in the U.S. state of New York on July 24, 2011 under the Marriage Equality Act. The NY Act does not specify residency requirements, which means that any person may travel to New York State and have a legally binding marriage. This fic presumes that the Act is not overturned and remains in force even in the year 2023.

The same law also permits the official changing of surnames. One or both parties to the marriage may elect to change their surnames by entering the new name in the space provided on the marriage licence.

Kyouya and Kaoru have elected for a combination surname separated by a hyphen, since both the Ootori and Hitachiin names are legacy names. Their marriage certificate is proof that the use of their new name is lawful.

(d) Multiple citizenship is discouraged/prohibited by Japan. This means that if Kaoru or Kyouya had elected to apply for U.S. citizenship, they would have been required to surrender their Japanese nationality. Fortunately, foreigners are permitted to marry in New York, so their marriage remains valid. The both of them are permanently residing in NYC.

(e) At the time of Kyouya's death, both he and Kaoru are 30 years old. Kaoru had turned 30 in June, while Kyouya turns 31 only in November. In the canon work (manga), the specific year of birth of all the characters are never stated, only their birth days and months. In this vacuum, I have worked out the most plausible and fitting timeline. Please refer to the author's profile page for more information as this timeline applies to more than one fic.

(f) The Roi Grand hotel chain is canonically part of the Suou Empire. It is mentioned in Chapter 57 – there is a picture of its exterior on page 17, and a picture of its main lobby on page 18. Hikaru's home base is a grand suite in Roi Grand New York (of course he's not living with his brother and brother-in-law, that is awkward unless it is a threesome relationship, which sadly this fic is not catering for).

Many creatives and other famous people have been known to live in hotels as their primary residence. Because Hikaru is kickass and cool, he joins their club.

This connects with Tamaki's declaration in Chapter 55 and Chapter 57 page 6 that he intends to establish himself in the hospitality sector of his family's empire. By this point of his life, Tamaki will have been handed control over the hotel chain. As I hope to show, even years later none of them are able to untangle themselves from the rest. Host Club forever!

(g) Kaoru can use Hikaru's passport because, though Japan has switched to the biometric passport system, the biometric chips of most countries tend to store information relating to name, personal details and a copy of the person's passport photograph rather than biological material. Identical twins actually have only nearly-identical DNA, so if the chips contain biological material such as fingerprint scans, Kaoru would have been found out at customs. Physically, Kaoru still very much resembles Hikaru at 30 years old.

(h) Fifth Avenue = filthy rich. That is all. They also have a house in the Hamptons, as do Haruhi and Tamaki.

(i) OCME stands for Office of Chief Medical Examiner. In New York City, the office of coroner was actually abolished in 1915. The OCME investigates cases of people who die within NYC from criminal violence and other suspicious or unusual causes. If the victim is dead or dies at the scene of a crime, the body goes straight to OCME. If the victim is unconscious or dying, she/he will be rushed to the hospital to try to save her/his life. If the victim dies en route to hospital/at hospital, the body then goes to the OCME.

By law, the OCME may release a body only to New York State licensed funeral directors. Next-of-kin will then make arrangements with the funeral home to transport the body out of the country.

(j) The little attic makes an appearance in the Ouran special chapter 'Hitachiin Family Precepts', where Kazuha trespasses on their turf at will.

(k) This is, as mentioned, a love story told in reverse. Their backstory will unfold slowly with time! In the Japanese culture, names and honorifics are extremely important social indicators. Therefore, please have faith that I am paying close attention to it! Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!

23/08/2011


	2. Chapter 1: September

**CHAPTER ONE**

.**  
><strong>

When I saw your strand of hair, I knew that grief is love turned into an eternal missing. It can't be contained in hours or days or minutes. Remember those 1930s coffee spoons, each one like a melted sweet? That's how I'd be living my life, in tiny measured doses. But your death was a vast sea, and I was sinking. Did you know that an ocean can be seven miles deep? No sun can penetrate that far down. In the total darkness, only misshapen, unrecognizable creatures survive, mutant emotions that I never knew existed until you died.

_Rosamund Lupton_

._  
><em>

Month 1: September

**(Tuesday 26 September 2023, 30 years old, Tokyo)**

Raw grief is indescribable.

The only thing that can be said of it is the actions of the afflicted: huddled in blankets, isolated in a room, cooped up in the house, not eating, not sleeping, not accepting calls or callers save family and close friends.

The body has been released to them, the process expedited due to various factors: powerful families, societal scandal, the fact of a _corpse_.

Today is the start of the memorial services. Days of ritual, nights of vigil, first the wake at the shrine, then the funeral, then the interment.

Kaoru can barely exit the car.

He's trembling, he knows it.

Honey, Mori and Hikaru turn to him, expressing their love and compassion even as they too are subdued and sorrowful. None of them seem able to leave the limousine. Tamaki and Haruhi are arriving separately. Kaoru hears that Tamaki had been the one to sort it all out and accompany his best friend back to their homeland.

Upon landing, the Ootoris had taken over, much to everyone's surprise.

Why hadn't Kaoru had the strength to bring Kyouya home himself? Why does he feel like he will never be able to do anything ever again?

He can't think, he can't _breathe_ – everything is too much, feels too much. He is boneless with anguish, his lungs crushed from an intolerable pressure.

Hikaru helps him out and adheres himself to his side, supporting him like a crutch. They've just crossed the threshold of the shrine, and Hikaru freezes in place when they stumble across the Ootoris. _Everyone_ knows – despite the utter, smothering lack of publicity – that Kyouya had been effectively disowned and that Kaoru is persona non grata to this family.

Ootori Yoshio approaches them with the composure of a predator, his face a blank mask.

Hikaru tenses up noticeably; Kaoru grips his brother's arm and tries not to shake too violently.

"Hitachiin-kun," Ootori Yoshio addresses him flatly, _after all these years still nothing more than Hitachiin-kun to him_, "I trust you will honour our agreement."

Kaoru gives a tight nod.

"Wha – _Kaoru, what have you_ – " Hikaru demands, voice climbing in pitch from distress until Mori clasps his shoulder firmly to cut him off.

_Not here_, Mori warns.

Ootori Yoshio waits for a beat before he leaves their vicinity, unimpressed as ever.

Kaoru finds himself manoeuvred to a quiet corner by Mori and Honey.

Honey doesn't ask anything of him, just stares unwaveringly at him with a hint of reproach; his senior has always been stern to him whenever the situation calls for it.

"I – " Kaoru croaks, swallowing to moisten his parched throat, "I bartered with – I agreed to give up any claims on Kyouya's body in exchange for Yoshio-sama arranging the sōgi and allowing Kyouya to be buried in their family plot."

The years have passed and the changes have been plenty, but some things are unchanged. Kaoru can see in both seniors' eyes that they have immediately grasped the ramifications of this decision, while Hikaru hasn't quite realised what it means.

"Doesn't matter," Kaoru whispers in response to Hikaru's impotent frustration. "It's not as though our marriage is legally recognised here. I can't stake a valid claim anyway, Hikaru."

His twin's expression melts involuntarily into something sad and pitying before he comes to his senses and wipes it clean off in order not to contribute anymore to Kaoru's suffering.

"Kaoru," someone says, voice cracking horribly, and Kaoru is engulfed in a fierce bear hug. He buries his face in Tamaki's neck and struggles not to cry, because if he does he will _bawl _and he will not stop.

He can feel Tamaki's heaving sobs against his chest, and he is grateful – _so grateful_ – that Tamaki is here; this is the one other person who loves Kyouya as much as he does, the person who'd introduced him to Kyouya, the person who'd reached out to a pair of lonely twins, the person at the core of everything magical and blessed in Kaoru's life.

Haruhi ducks under Tamaki's arm to join in the hug, and Kaoru clutches and clutches at them as retching hiccups force their way out of him.

"T – Tono," Hikaru stutters helplessly, "You – you're squashing him – let – let him – "

Tamaki peels away anxiously to inspect Kaoru through watery eyes; and _oh god_ Kaoru wishes he hadn't, because now Kaoru can see that Haruhi's cheeks are wet too, and tears are pooled in Mori's eyes; he can see that Honey's face is scrunched up, droplets rolling out of squeezed-shut eyelids, and Hikaru is chewing viciously on his bottom lip in that way that he does when he really doesn't want to cry, but knows he's going to.

Of Kyouya's treasured ex-host club, only Kaoru's eyes are still dry; they burn unbearably, yet the sensation is a mere echo of the blistering wound in his heart.

An incoherent sound is wrung from him and he pulls Tamaki back to himself. His legs refuse to hold him up any longer; Tamaki doesn't let him fall.

.

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><p>.<p>

**(Thursday 28 September 2023, 30 years old, Tokyo)**

When Hikaru sees the stone monument of the haka, he understands the price that Kaoru has paid.

Kyouya's name is etched into the grey slab, kanji and rōmaji scribed in elegant calligraphy, but the name is solitary and companionless, and it is completely, sickeningly _wrong_.

"_How _dare _you pretend Kaoru doesn't exist!_"Hikaru thunders at Ootori Yoshio in a magnificent display of bravery and devotion. "_AND HIS NAME IS HITACHIIN-OOTORI KYOUYA!_"

Kaoru had known that his own name wasn't going to be in its rightful place beside Kyouya's; he hadn't expected the sight of it to feel like a punch to the gut.

He isn't going to be buried with Kyouya when he dies.

He isn't going to be buried with Kyouya when he dies.

_He isn't going to_ – his final resting site will not be beside the love of his life, _this is the last that he will ever see of Kyouya –_

His father comes up from behind and cradles him before he slides into hysteria, and his mother moves to where Hikaru is and restrains him with a gentle touch, her eyes flashing dangerously at Ootori Yoshio.

"Your son agreed to it," Ootori Yoshio tells them reasonably. Behind him, Fuyumi is weeping silently in Yuuichi's embrace, half-destroyed with regret.

Kaoru walks shakily to the grave and lowers himself to his knees. The silver chain around his neck clinks a soft metallic sound; he clenches Kyouya's ring into his fist, carving deep grooves into his palm. He'd debated endlessly with himself about whether to keep it or to have Kyouya wear it for the rest of eternity, and at last he'd decided that if they cannot be buried together, he must at least retain something of Kyouya to put in his own grave – the ring, and the iconic pair of glasses.

The other ex-host club members gather around him, each of them laying down their bouquet of flowers and assorted gifts. Earlier, Honey had placed a bag of the finest confectionery known to humankind in the casket along with the traditional extra set of white kimono, sandals and six coins.

Kaoru's bouquet is personally made, the culmination of his skills in ikebana. It is the pinnacle of his artistic vision, it is the image of his soul, it is his tribute, his declaration. It is _him_, the way that he will stay here, the way he will wilt.

A hand slips into his comfortingly and brings him out of his woozy, heartsick daze. He is physically and mentally exhausted. Haruhi's large brown eyes reflect nothing but concern, for an instant she is so reminiscent of Ranka that it sparks a wave of churning dismay that the Ootoris had not deigned to extend an invitation to Ranka, who's adored Kyouya for as long as they've known each other, who'd encouraged Kaoru to explore his bisexuality, and who'd been an ardent fan of their relationship.

Ootori Yoshio makes to leave, issuing instructions to his assistants to tie up the loose ends. Kaoru doesn't want to go yet, though he knows that he will not be permitted to stay long without Yoshio's presence. He looks up, vulnerable and pleading, and the lines on that elderly face teach him a lesson akin to a sudden epiphany – Yoshio is tired, Yoshio is old, Yoshio is a parent who has just buried his child, Yoshio's anger is proportionate to his love.

"I need hardly remind you that you are unwelcome on my family's property, Hitachiin-kun," Yoshio states succinctly.

Kaoru had hoped that it wouldn't come to this. He'd been well aware of the possibility that interring Kyouya in the Ootori family plot would result in him being permanently banned from visiting Kyouya.

"You go too far, Yoshio-san," Yuzuha snaps, sharp as a whip.

"Nonetheless, it is my property," Yoshio replies. "Good day, Yuzuha-san."

"Yoshio-sama," Kaoru calls abruptly, halting him in his tracks.

He stands and runs the short distance to his father-in-law. Facing him squarely, Kaoru lowers his voice so as not to be overheard, "Thank you."

And as he says it, he himself is shocked by how genuine the sentiment is. He hadn't said it to make Yoshio look bad or to induce more favours from the man.

Yoshio's eyebrows raise a fraction. At the lack of forthcoming explanations, he strides away with his three remaining children in tow.

Kaoru grabs Fuyumi's hand impulsively when she walks by him. She isn't at a stage whereby she can smile at Kaoru or at all. He knows this, remembers that Kyouya had loved his sister, and gives her a hug that she returns sincerely. Akito guides her away, shooting Kaoru confused, unfathomable looks.

"You needn't have gotten my father involved," Yuuichi remarks seemingly casually, one hand tucked suavely in his front trouser pocket. "If you'd buried Kyouya anywhere else, you would have been able to visit him as and when you like."

Kaoru is not capable of smiling either; if he could, however, he should have liked to do so now.

The thing is: Kaoru has always wanted Kyouya to want him, but he's never wanted Kyouya to lose his family. Once an Ootori, forever an Ootori. They'd fought so hard in the course of this relationship for Kyouya to keep his ties to them; they are a part of him – he came from them, and he should return to them.

Noble self-sacrifice aside, it does not lessen the agony of being unable to visit him. In his head Kaoru can hear Kyouya chiding him for being a heroic fool. Usually this would be equal parts exasperation and fondness; a frown, a pout, and maybe a kiss or two, or twenty, or thousand.

Kaoru experiences another amnesiac episode here.

He knows himself well enough to surmise that he must have broken and crumbled into delirium, or perhaps he'd gone berserk from the intimate memories. Whatever had happened, it still makes Hikaru blanch and the others flinch at the mention of it, so Kaoru doesn't ask.

.

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><p>.<p>

**(Friday 29 September 2023, 30 years old, Hitachiin Estate)**

He is back to languishing in his bed.

The clean sheets smell of detergent, because the servants wash them compulsively.

But the room, _the room_ –

They'd occupied this room together, and Kyouya's cologne still permeates the air.

Little trinkets are dotted here and there. The souvenirs from past travels cause his eyes to sting; he displays them all prominently like a masochist, and allows (wants, _needs_) Hikaru to sleep beside him on the condition that he only occupies what used to be Kaoru's side of the bed.

Kaoru can't bear for anyone else to sleep where Kyouya used to.

He's forbidden the servants to enter the room, and he freaks out over the smallest things. In his life he has never behaved so heinously towards Hikaru; now, everything is Hikaru's fault and Hikaru has to solve absolutely _everything_.

Hikaru has been waiting on him hand and foot, letting his twin lash out unreasonably and take it out on him, and hasn't returned to his girlfriend/boyfriend – whoever he's dating at the moment, he runs through them so fast – since the fashion show. Kaoru's being selfish and he doesn't give a damn about it, but if Hikaru abandons him to his own defences then Kaoru really thinks he might hate him for it.

No, well, actually…

Kaoru is still Kaoru and can't bring himself to be that selfish. So, at half past two in the afternoon, he gives Célia a call. Bold, cunning, unapologetic, an enthusiast of modernismo (which is all you need to know about her tastes – exquisite, that is) and quite frankly smoking hot, the Spanish youngest-ever director of the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao accepts Kaoru's suggestion to vacation in Japan for a week.

After Kaoru hangs up, he realises that he's just engineered Hikaru away from him and bursts into tears.

Hikaru holds him while he blubbers uncontrollably, then tells him off for doing stupid, unnecessary things.

The ex-club members converge on the Hitachiin estate at five.

They talk and cry, and drink Haruhi's homemade soup. These days it is a privilege to be able to eat anything made by Suou Haruhi-sama.

They make it a point not to reminisce though the mood is nostalgic.

Kaoru lays his head in Tamaki's lap and his feet in Hikaru's, worn out from his tears. They seem to instinctively understand that he doesn't want to talk – that he and Tamaki _can't_ – and they fill in the empty spaces with snippets of their lives, for they are living and will live, and Kaoru doesn't begrudge them this because their lives are precious to him.

Tamaki's fingers comb through his hair every minute or so. Kaoru's eyes are closed; the image of Tamaki's face is already imprinted indelibly in his mind. The one other time that Tamaki had looked anywhere remotely close to how he does now had been at his grandmother's sōgi. The world is dimmer when Tamaki doesn't smile; Kaoru turns his head slightly and drops a kiss onto Tamaki's thigh to elicit one.

Tamaki tries hard. It's clear that he's not a proper frame of mind too, but he makes up for it by pressing his crooked smile directly into Kaoru's temple.

This is a summary of the past decade:

Kaoru shares Kyouya with Tamaki.

Tamaki shares Haruhi with Hikaru.

Hikaru shares Kaoru with Kyouya.

Among the five of them, they share Honey and Mori.

Years later, Kaoru isn't sure when he ends and where they begin.

That is why:

When Tachibana arrives at a quarter to ten, every single one of them has the rug pulled out from beneath them.

Tachibana is greying and wracked with guilt. The shame is a byproduct of his old habits dying hard since he hasn't been one of Kyouya's field bodyguards for ages. Kaoru knows that Tachibana would have died for Kyouya, and that is enough for him.

"Kaoru-sama," Tachibana says quietly with his head bowed, powerless to look Kaoru straight on. "I was instructed to hand this to you."

An innocuous white envelope is respectfully held out. From this distance, Kaoru can make out his name written in an all too familiar handwriting.

The air is cloyingly thick with anticipation, with held breaths.

Someone gasps, the sound a rattling, wretched thing.

In the next instant Kaoru discovers that each of his friends have seized him with a hand or even two, keeping him upright under their combined steam. He starts to thrash, to fight them off frantically, _rabidly_, in order to lunge forward for the letter.

"Kaoru!"

"Give it to me!" he screams.

"Tachibana, leave it and go!" Tamaki orders. Tachibana makes to comply immediately.

"NO! NOOO! EXPLAIN YOURSELF! EXPLAIN _THIS_!"

"GO NOW!" Hikaru yells, catching his brother's flailing arms. Despite being Kaoru's servant, Tachibana obviously deems it fit to heed their orders over his.

"LET ME GO! _Let me go!_ What's wrong with all of you!" Kaoru shrieks, choking on fresh tears. "I want – I just want – "

Mori unfortunately chooses that moment to move the letter out of harm's way from their jostling on the large bed.

"DON'T _TOUCH_ IT! IT'S MINE, IT'S _MINE!_" he roars possessively. "LET ME HAVE IT!"

They refuse to unhand him.

"Breathe, Kao-chan. Breathe. I know it's annoying to hear it, but try," Honey advises soothingly. "If you read Kyou-chan's letter in this state, you'll overreact to everything in it."

"Yes, Kaoru, please try," Haruhi implores as he descends into high-pitched keening noises like a caged, injured animal. "You've already overtaxed yourself so much – "

"_IT'S MINE._ _Let. Me. Go!_" he grits out. "Let me go let me go let me go let me go let me go let me go – "

Hikaru gives an extra hard tug and Kaoru lurches into his arms.

_Stop, please_, Hikaru begs.

Kaoru has made his twin cry again.

"_Please_, Hikaru," he convulses, "Please, I'll calm down when I read the letter, please, please, I just want to read it, it's for me, please, I can't – I have to – it's from – I – "

Tamaki has also begun to cry. He covers Kaoru's hand with both of his and gazes at him with understanding. Kaoru's vise grip on Hikaru's shirt is gently pried loose, the letter is placed on his palm and his fingers are bent closed over it.

"Yes, it's yours," Tamaki rasps, "We're sorry. Don't shout anymore; your voice is hoarse. Drink some water."

Mori conjures a glass and passes it to Kaoru. His large hand settles on Kaoru's back and rubs softly to help his panic to subside. "I apologise. For touching it."

Kaoru feels _crazy_. He is stuffed full and empty all at once, and he wants to keep screaming and screaming until it tears him into little tiny pieces.

_Kyouya_… His Kyouya has made preparations even for this. It is so like him and it makes Kaoru die a little to think of him dwelling in places so dark and bleak.

"Get out," he sobs. "All of you, get out."

No one budges.

"_I said get out!_"

Haruhi gathers him to herself and says, "I think Kyouya-san intended for you to receive the letter only when we're here for you, Kaoru."

Kaoru pushes her away a tad roughly. He is sorry for it and he wishes someone, anyone, would rebuke him for being a brat so that he can feel something other than blinding pain.

Tamaki touches his fingertips to Kaoru's jaw. "We're not leaving you to read this alone."

Kaoru pushes a hand through his hair agitatedly and crumples into a curled ball. All of them can be so stubborn sometimes. Part of him wants them to stay, and part of him is filled with dread at having to share Kyouya any more than he already has. Finally, in concession to them, he scrambles to the far side of the bed and pulls the envelope open with butterflies roiling in his stomach.

He can barely read; tears keep flowing like blood from a wound.

_My dearest Kaoru,_

_I'm sorry for leaving you. Please don't hurry to wherever I am, for all of time is mine to have and I will wait for you faithfully._

_I will not say: 'do not weep'; for not all tears are an evil. Were I in your position, I should not find within myself more strength than you possess. But part of the reason that you've always been irresistible to me is that you somehow continually manage to defy expectations, and if your strength should fail, I will be your pillar still, as once I was, so I am and always will be._

_For each year that we have been together, that is also the number of months that you can expect to receive more letters from me. Henceforth, deficient as my atonement may be, let me hold your hand on the 12__th__ of every month, my Kaoru._

_If I know you well – and I fancy I do – are you back in Japan? You have been skipping meals, haven't you? Tachibana will have brought food for you, please eat some. For me._

_He will also have brought a cooling gel eye mask. I know that your eyes are dry and sore; I wish I could kiss it better, but we'll have to make do for now._

_You love it when we play this game, so:_

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
>my heart)i am never without it(anywhere<br>i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done  
>by only me is your doing,my darling) <em>

_i fear _

_no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want  
>no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)<br>and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
>and whatever a sun will always sing is you <em>

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
>(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud<br>and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
>higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)<br>and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart _

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

_Yours, Kyouya_

His world narrows down to the poem, head spinning from the emotional toll. The answer hits him like electricity.

He flies off the bed and takes off out of the room like a bullet, sprinting for the second-floor study that belongs to him and Kyouya. Behind him, he can hear the others in hot pursuit.

They sound quite pissed off and very worried.

Screeching to a halt and flinging the door open with so much force that it slams into the wall, Kaoru throws himself at the bookshelves and starts tossing some of them out erratically in his single-minded search for the compendium of poetry that Kyouya had given him for their second anniversary.

"Kaoru, what the _hell_?" Hikaru barks at him while trying to catch his breath.

Kaoru speeds up, even faster, faster if it is at all possible – he has less than a minute of ignoring them before Mori will predictably arrest his mania. His fingers grope and his eyes flash unseeing, he will know the book by touch because he loves it so much; he seizes it.

They used to read this book together, reciting lines and annotating themselves into the spaces between the words. Kaoru is sun-gold ink, Kyouya is silver-sharp inscriptions. He gentles his movements to protect the paper pages, finds the poem and examines it carefully.

Striking as precision geometry, unexplained steel-coloured circles are looped around the word 'world' both times it appears, and the page number – 147 – is double ringed.

"Circle? What's world… two? Twice…? Double?" Kaoru mutters, insensate to all else. "147… round?"

Tamaki interrupts his racing thoughts by clamping down on his shoulders. "Kaoru, _talk to us_."

He smacks the hands off unceremoniously and begins to pace restlessly.

"World… two worlds – _two worlds_!" he exclaims feverishly, almost hopping with glee. "World maps! Two world maps!"

They've wised up to his ways, and Honey blocks the exit before Kaoru can bolt.

Kaoru whirls, drowning in claustrophobia and inaction. The looks directed at him are scared and brimming with ill-concealed horror.

"Kyouya's office!" he demands of Tamaki. "Bring me to Kyouya's office!"

"At Midtown?" Haruhi's rational voice starts up, "That's – "

"No, Minami-Aoyama! He knows I'm here! Let me go there now!" He is seconds away from striding towards Honey recklessly, suicidally, to push him out of the way or perish in the attempt.

They cave, but tag along doggedly. No one makes any mention of the fact that it is nearly midnight.

Vibrating with barely suppressed energy through the journey, Kaoru explodes out of the limousine and floods into the spacious, luxurious office. On the south-facing wall, there are two sizeable world maps placed side-by-side, one of which is liberally studded with round magnets marking the countries in which Kyouya's company has a foothold, the other is covered with post-it notes of foreign developments that they should be tracking.

He rolls up his sleeves and starts scrabbling at the boards, plucking at their corners to find a latch, if any. Hikaru springs to help him, apparently having decided that surrender is the only solution.

"Kaoru, you are too pale," Mori intones gravely, obviously displeased.

"M – Mori-senpai," he babbles, lighting upon the tall figure, "Mori-senpai, please help me to remove the notice boards! Please take them down!"

"Sit down."

Kaoru looks wildly at him for his unwanted remark; Mori is immovable as a rock, and Kaoru turns to Hikaru, pleading.

"Takashi-senpai, please," Hikaru requests softly, completely defeated.

"Sit down," Mori repeats to Kaoru.

He is dangerously close to whining. _Why wouldn't any of them help him?_

"Mitsukuni-senpai, make Mori-senpai – "

"Sit down, Kao-chan," Honey says shortly, not unkindly but very, very firmly.

"Tamaki!" he bellows, absolutely stricken. "Kyouya made you promise that you'd take care of me, didn't he?! Did you say yes?! Did you?! Why are you breaking your promise?! Why – why won't – "

He sways on the spot, and decides to give up living there and then.

.

* * *

><p>.<strong><br>**

**(Saturday 30 September 2023, 30 years old, Kyouya's office)**

He floats to consciousness amidst the cadences of a French lullaby, sung by a voice thick with unshed tears.

There is an incredibly familiar vanilla-and-strawberry smell filling his nostrils – yes, a lumpy, furry thing is resting on his chest. Quiet murmurings buzz through the air; he can barely make them out through the haze of fatigue.

"Honey-senpai," says a feminine voice, "Do you want to nap for a little while? The doctor said the sedation should keep Kaoru asleep for at least a few more hours."

"It's all right, Haru-chan."

"Are you sure?" Haruhi asks. "Tamaki could make space for you on the sofa."

Giggle. "If I know Kao-chan, he'll fight his way awake sooner rather than later."

Haruhi sighs heavily.

"Tono," Hikaru whispers, "Here, hand Kaoru to me. Takashi-senpai's brought back some breakfast."

Slight rustling, like someone shaking his head.

"Tono, it's not your fault."

Silence.

"If anything, I'm to blame. I'm the only one that Kaoru has been willing to see for the past weeks. I haven't been caring for him properly."

"Don't be stupid, Hikaru."

"You're the stupid one," Hikaru retorts. "Haruhi! Tono's trying to starve himself!"

"Both of you are being stupid," Haruhi deadpans. "Go and eat. Tamaki, I'll look after Kaoru. Hikaru, you go too, or I'll tell Mori-senpai."

"Whaa – "

"Go."

Kaoru can feel his head being lifted carefully and transferred to another person's lap. He tries unsuccessfully to move his lips or open his eyes. The sensation is that of being pressed down by multiple blankets, lead weight unforgiving and suffocating.

A catchy tune rends the air, followed by light swearing from Hikaru.

In Spanish, he says, "Célia? Yeah, I'm with Kaoru. You remember which is my room? Okay – yeah. Yeah. Thanks, see you later, okay? Bye."

"Heeheehee," giggles a teasing voice.

"What?" Hikaru says gruffly, a touch defensive.

The others chime in with muffled chuckles in a temporary triumph of happiness over sadness.

"Hey, stop it! Our focus has to be on Kaoru!"

The absence of sound stretches on uncomfortably.

"Hnn," – extremely disapproving – , "Eat."

Kaoru is swimming his way up, trying to break through the surface. Vaguely he remembers that there is something he must do. Probably concerning Kyouya or Hikaru – he only ever feels this way about either of them…

"Tamaki! I think he's waking – !"

Flurry of activity.

"Hnnghh_ …_"

"Shhh, shhh," Tamaki soothes. "Don't sit up too quickly."

Kaoru sits up quickly.

He would have vomited if there had been anything to bring up. As it is he retches sickly, dryly, all while trying to get a grip on his disobedient body long enough to wail-ask what they've done with his letter and book.

"They're here, they're right here," Haruhi assures. "We didn't read them. We've taken the boards down like you wanted. Stop resisting us, Kaoru."

He snaps his gaze to the wall; it's a small, discreet safe.

"One-four-seven," he grinds out, too weak to walk. "The password, it's – "

"Okay, _okay_. Stay there," Hikaru stresses, moving hastily to obey. "Ah, Kaoru, it's asking for six digits."

"Um, ummm…" He tries to moisten his throat and coughs terribly. Honey forces him to drink.

Two circles – "One-four-seven-one-four-seven!"

The keypad beeps faintly.

"No good," Hikaru reports.

Lightning-fast, Mori pins Kaoru down into the sofa.

"Kao-chan, if you stand up, you'll black out again."

"That has to be the password! It has to be! Why doesn't it open! Are you sure you entered it right?"

Hikaru enters it in once more to humour him.

"Kyouya circled the page number twice! Two times of 147, that's right, isn't it? Haruhi," he turns to her, "Haruhi, help!"

She looks deep in thought. Kaoru knows that Kyouya trusts her intelligence and puzzle-solving skills.

"Two times 147 is 294," Honey pipes up, always the consummate mathematician. "One-four-seven-two-nine-four?"

"… Nope, doesn't work."

Tamaki doesn't make any suggestions. All his attention is – has been – on Kaoru, sporadically brushing his cheekbone with a thumb or tucking his bangs behind his ear like nothing else matters.

"The maps!" Haruhi says suddenly. "Palindromes, Kaoru! The first map has the Americas on the left, but the second map shows the Americas on the right!"

Their eyes meet excitedly. "One-four-seven-seven-four-one!" they announce simultaneously.

Hikaru's fingers blaze furiously. There is a chain of clicking noises as the safe comes unlocked.

"Oh, I have to – !"

Everyone glares at him. "Sit. There. Don't. Move."

Hikaru gasps.

"Hikaru what's in there what's in there?"

"It's The Book. _The Book_," he says, rather awed. "Should I – ?"

"Give it here!" Kaoru commands. "Is there anything else? Just this?"

"Yeah, nothing except that," Hikaru replies, peering into the safe and patting around its interior to make sure. He picks up the black leather-bound book somewhat reverently and deposits it in Kaoru's anxious hands.

"Tamaki," he calls, haphazardly reaching his hand out for him. Tamaki meets him halfway. "Tamaki, did he ever tell you what's in them?"

He blinks, startled. "Kaoru, you didn't ask?"

"Accounts, he said that they're accounts. He showed me, it was all just numbers and tax and business." Kaoru's breath hitches. "This – this isn't it – there are – there're _words_, oh god – this has _drawings_, and – and _photographs_ – "

– of them. The photographs are all of the seven of them and their families in various combinations and permutations.

He flips through the pages jerkily. There is a lot of him – _so much, too much_ – scattered throughout, lovingly collected and preserved.

There, taped to the page: a smoothed-out sketch of a dress that he'd binned in a fit of pique after an argument with Hikaru. And here: a feature article in Vogue about the Hitachiin legacy and its impact on the Japanese fashion scene. Three pages down: a detailed reminder to make preparations for their anniversary; another two pages down: a passage from Kafka on the Shore that Kaoru adores, and at the bottom of the passage: a photocopy of a 5-panel comic strip (art by him, story by Kyouya), part of a series intended for and mailed to Tamaki semi-regularly in situations where it is necessary to wholesomely illustrate and spell out his idiocy.

Tamaki chokes out a laugh at the sight of it and tightens his arms around Kaoru.

Yes, this professionally sleek book is an _account_ – of the life that they've built together, saturated with love and loyalty and dazzling in its fulfilling perfection.

Overwhelmed by the sheer devotion on display, Kaoru lets his head loll against Tamaki's chest uselessly.

"_Wow_," Haruhi breathes. "May I, Kaoru?"

Reluctance bites at his insides, but her photograph in the book reminds him that everyone here deserves to see it. He indicates his assent with a feeble hum.

She lifts the book away from him; as a trade-off, he folds himself fully into her husband.

Curious, Hikaru leans against her to catch a better view. She points at something and they snicker at the photo of Kaoru decked out in a grass skirt and coconut half-shell bra during his March vacation-retreat to Hawaii with Kyouya.

Honey jams Haruhi in from the other side, reading aloud a haiku that Kaoru'd written for Kyouya when he'd been stuck at the atelier for nights in a row during the lead-up to S/S:

_Lingering along  
>with you, I long the longer<br>to belong with you._

"Oh, don't," he groans, whether from embarrassment or the invasion into their private lives, he doesn't know.

"I like it!" Tamaki protests, unaware that his approval in romantic matters is generally treated with suspicion. "It's beautiful!"

"Ugh," Hikaru says, "On second thoughts, is it really safe for us to read this? Will I come across things that will scar me for life?"

Kaoru snorts, the closest he's come to a smile for weeks.

"It stopped," Mori observes.

True enough, the pages have faded to blank three-quarters into the book, leaving a considerable chunk left unfilled. Kaoru cannot speak for the plummeting of his heart.

"Loads more have happened that are worth documenting," Hikaru muses.

"It doesn't make sense," Haruhi agrees.

"That's… these things all happened this year!" Hikaru yelps, figuring it out. He slides his arms under Haruhi's, backtracking to the early pages. "See! This stuff happened in January!"

Honey takes over, flipping to the foremost page. It is clean and unmarked, save for the numbers '2023' embossed elegantly at its centre.

"He made one for every year?" Haruhi expresses the conjecture that is in everyone's minds.

"Damn, that's just - that means..." Hikaru trails off uncertainly.

Kaoru is frozen with shock, too. He knows exactly who he'd married, yet he keeps relearning it in new and staggering ways.

"Bring me home, please," he asks evenly. He is going to scrupulously, meticulously read through this in a manner befitting the painstaking work that has gone into it.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Notes

(a) The opening quote is from the book Sister, by Rosamund Lupton.

(b) Japanese memorial services are split into several segments that vary according to custom. That is why I have chosen to use the word _sōgi _(葬儀) or alternatively, _sōshiki _(葬式) to refer to the process as a whole.

(c) The family grave, _haka_ (墓), allows all the members of a family to be buried together. As such, when a married person dies before his or her spouse, the name of the spouse may also be engraved on the headstone. The letters of the spouse's name will be painted red to signify that she/he is still alive. Upon death and burial, the same _haka_ is used and the red ink removed. It can be a sign of the surviving spouse waiting to follow into the grave – a little morbid but kind of romantic.

(d) Asian countries are typically (much, much) slower to give recognition to same-sex relationships and partnerships.

(e) The twins are big fans of _modernismo catalán_, from special chapter released in January 2011.

(f) The quote about not all tears being an evil is from Gandalf, in the Lord of the Rings.

(g) The poem in Kyouya's letter is from e.e. cummings.

(h) The haiku that Kaoru wrote for Kyouya is 'Linger', by Andreas Wittenstein.

24/8/2011


	3. Chapter 2: Year 2023

**CHAPTER TWO**

.

Snapshots: Year 2023

1. **(January, 29 years old, Fifth Avenue penthouse: dining area)**

A magazine left open on the table, with highlights and annotations:

DESIGNER DYNASTY

_The ruler's ultimate dream: success, prestige and longevity. What's next for the one who has it all? Rachel Tyler speaks to the reigning empress of Japanese fashion and her heirs apparent._

The year is 1984, a flame-haired girl rushes into the classroom an hour and forty-five minutes after the first bell. It is not her customary lateness that causes her teacher and classmates to do a double take. It is the earrings, the scarf, the gloves, the handbag – every day, the girl changes her appearance; every day, she modifies her school-issue uniform.

That same year, privately-owned Ouran Academy decided to crack down on students who flout uniform guidelines. **– This is where a Host Club comes in handy. I'd wondered at her extraordinary enthusiasm whenever she volunteered to dress us for club.** By then, it had been of little consequence to the twelve-year-old girl whether or not she falls in line with the rest of her schoolmates – her reputation has spread, and her distinguished peers have commissioned her to design clothing for them.

At fourteen, two of her designs were spotted at the annual charity gala hosted by the Suou Corporation.

At sixteen, her first full collection (subsequently dubbed 'the wine collection' due to its prominent tones of claret, burgundy, mulberry, nudes and bronze) made its debut. Drawing inspiration from the easy sophistication of the French, her clever use of colour and texture marked her as a true connoisseur of luxury.

This is Yuzuha Hitachiin in a nutshell: impossible to contain and impeccably dressed. **– The sentence is self-contradictory and inane. How can Mother-in-law be summarised in a nutshell when she is impossible to contain?**

For decades she has sat at the helm of the House of Hitachiin, founded by Amaterasu Hitachiin and her husband Tadao of the Ikendō, the illustrious school of ikebana (Japanese flower arrangement). An artisan of the kimono, Amaterasu Hitachiin is descended from a line of stylists to the Japanese Imperial Family. She combined her craft with that of her husband's, a skilled maker of kanzashi (hair ornaments) to establish the company in 1929.

Under Yuzuha Hitachiin's administration, the Hitachiin name has become the preeminent force in the Japanese fashion scene and her work contributes significantly to the direction of global fashion trends. With flagship stores located on avenue Montaigne in Paris and in Omotesandō, Tokyo, Hitachiin is a formidable force, not least because her three children are similarly artistically inclined and poised to inherit her throne – twins Hikaru and Kaoru, co-owners and creative directors of Flamingo&Maya, and their sister Ageha, who at twelve years of age is displaying the same precocity as her mother.

In a subversion of her childhood self, Hitachiin is fastidiously punctual for work. At exactly two in the afternoon, she strides in for the interview attired in a military style blazer, skinny slacks and killer heels. She is arresting, larger-than life; it is impossible to restrain oneself from ogling when she commands the spotlight effortlessly. Hitachiin offers tea and fluffy cushions while bidding me to make myself comfortable, then pushes a plate of churros at the photographer, insisting that he should try them because in her experience, "photographers work better on a full stomach. It makes their tempers less foul."

"So," she begins when she is satisfied that we are eating, "Ask away. My sons will join us in a minute. They're late because they're young. Young people enjoy the ego boost of making others wait for them. I know only two exceptions."

Who are they, I ask, watching as she casually removes her shoes and tucks her feet beneath her.

"My husband and my son-in-law," she replies, hushed amusement dancing in her eyes. **– You assured me that you had a chat with her about her unfortunate penchant of laughing at me. **The men in question are corporate heavyweights in the technology sector: Yasuhiro Hitachiin, president and CEO of Code Software, and Kyouya Hitachiin-Ootori of Cure Inc.

"Ah, everyone always says this: 'how do fashion and technology relate to each other?' Were you going to ask that?" she demands with an air of impatience. "It is not the industries that relate to each other, it's the people. Is it that you cannot love unless you understand the other person's work? Or maybe you want to do the other person's work? Nonsense. No imagination at all."

Hitachiin is known to abhor the stale and the prosaic, considering them to be worse company than fools. Stupidity can provoke laughter, she claims, but dullness is nothing more than an enemy of creativity. She does not take well to people who possess "a vapid mind and an insipid outlook", an accusation she levelled at Henry Leron, then the fashion editor of Fierce! magazine. Three years ago, Leron penned an article about Mei Yasumura (Hitachiin's apprentice from 2019-2020) in which he contended that Yasumura's ganguro background rendered her incapable of creating appropriately stylish clothing. Hitachiin believed that he had fallen into the lazy habit of typecasting new designers based on personal prejudice and made no secret about her disillusionment with his ability to continue in the editorial role.

Following the spat, Leron lambasted her 2021 F/W collection in a shocking piece of vitriol; when asked about it, Hitachiin notoriously replied, "I am unsurprised by his lack of originality. That is why he is a reporter and not a designer."

Several journalists took umbrage, boycotting her shows in support of the dignity of their profession, and at least one fashion blogger declined to review her collection that year. **– The journalists may have been less offended if they'd known that she regularly commits such character defamations upon her own husband.**

The incident also highlights another well-known attribute of Hitachiin: she is an exacting but loyal mentor. Of the protégés that she has groomed, she has had a hand in assisting every one of them to establish their own labels: Ren Saejima in Shibuya, Roman Battelli in Milan, Asher Hudson-Brown in London, Yasumura in Harajuku and, of course, her own sons in New York.

The name of the twins' label draws its roots from the colours that Hitachiin used to dress them in – flamingo pink and maya blue. When reminded of her propensity to use them as her models, Hitachiin laughs, clear as a bell.

"They were the best, incomparable. Most children are very fussy with clothing – too loose, too tight, too scratchy. Hikaru and Kaoru were more so, because I was always criticising and reviewing clothes in front of them. That's why they cooperated when I took their measurements – they didn't want me to criticise what they wear! I didn't realise this until they were eight, but by then they'd already cultivated a basic fashion sense. **– What she honestly means is: by then you'd acquired her habit and she hadn't wanted to forego the entertaining pastime of listening to Hikaru's and your insulting comments about other people's dress sense.** If they had not taken an interest in design, I would have recommended modelling to them. But, I think, I am happier that they are designers."

She gives the distinct impression that she is uninterested in handing her legacy to her children on a silver plate. The impression is reinforced when her sons walk in, each giving her a kiss on the cheek before turning their attentions to anything else. It's an unmistakeable recognition of her authority. **– Isn't it more that Mother-in-law enjoys embarrassing us in interviews when we don't appease her?**

One of the brothers apologises for the both of them; they were caught in traffic. The rumours are true: when the twins do not speak they are virtually indistinguishable, the instant they talk they become identifiable.

The brother who hadn't apologised – Hikaru – asks if I've sampled the dark chocolate dip. The dips and the churros were made for his mother by his girlfriend, he freely informs me, and the dark chocolate is particularly good.

Hikaru Hitachiin's resemblance to his mother is immediate and striking. They come across as strong-willed and energetic, with an edge of insolence that gives them a dangerous charm. At the moment, he is dating Célia Álvarez Miguel, the real estate heiress with whom he has been in a turbulent, on-off relationship for six years. **– An apt description. Your brother has left several dozen messages on our phone; either the atelier has burnt down overnight or he may have just broken up with her again. **When questioned about his sources of inspiration, he references her homeland – Álvarez Miguel hails from Spain, a country steeped in art movements that endlessly fascinate him.

He tells of the time when they had attempted to begin their own art collection. After much judicious sourcing and purchasing, he and Álvarez Miguel had amassed a respectable number of paintings and sculptures, enough to form a small gallery in her mansion in Barcelona – only to donate everything to various museums around the world. "With things like art, you always want to own it, you know? That wish will stay forever, but then you realise that great art is meant to be seen by as many people as possible. "

Hikaru is unexpectedly forthcoming about his relationship, unlike his brother Kaoru, who merely answers, "We're quite well, thank you" in response to an inquiry after him and his spouse. Even when prompted to put in his two cents regarding his mother's opinion on cross-industry marriages, Kaoru does not take the bait.

Famously reticent to discuss his marriage and private life, Kaoru Hitachiin-Ootori remains a tough nut to crack after nearly twenty years in an industry where public exposure is often the norm. At first glance, he is as irrepressible as the members of his family are reputed to be; upon closer inspection his presence feels different – mellower, more subdued.

The Hitachiins embody the combination of qualities common to many creative spirits: a mix of unconventional vision and uncompromising focus blended with a mercurial nature and a perpetual fear of failure. With the younger twin, however, there is a disarming fragility that ensnares slowly but surely, translating into an alluring sensuality that one cannot help but be captivated by. It bears repeating that to underestimate him would be a grave mistake, for his history – what is known of it, at least – functions as a cautionary tale of the strength that must needs be hidden within. **– This paragraph is truly delightful. Without a doubt the best part of the article. Its accuracy is astonishing.**

As the brothers have never designed separately, it can be challenging to pinpoint the actual brains behind any particular outfit; but even in the melting pot of their ideas, an artist's work is invariably a reflection of the soul who made it. The grapevine proves itself right again: after half an hour with the twins, it is plain as day as to which design belongs to whom. **– When reporters say this, I am almost certain that they will be wrong.**

The hypothesis is put to them and they verify it **– Liars**: the confrontational, daring creations are the domain of the elder while the subtle, teasing designs **– Your bold, take-charge side is equally, ravishingly sexy** are those of the younger. **– And indeed, she is wrong.**

Have the brothers ever felt like taking a break from their close working relationship?

"We're most successful when we play off each other," Hikaru asserts.

His twin readily agrees. "Our best ideas are usually discovered in dialogue and collaborative experimentation. That doesn't mean that each of us doesn't grow as an individual designer. There's no reason why being in a partnership should hinder personal development."

The benefits of their partnership are undeniable. During fashion season, after working on their label for the New York fashion week, they join their mother in Paris. In addition, they are partial to managing their business themselves: Flamingo&Maya has a store in Aoyama – another of Tokyo's entertainment and shopping hubs – in addition to the one on Manhattan's Seventh Avenue. Contrary to popular expectation, the twins had declined to bid for a shop space near their mother (made available after the bankruptcy of UrbanTwist, Ltd.). The reason for Aoyama as opposed to Omotesandō has never been clarified, though it is generally accepted that the decision was prompted by Hitachiin-Ootori's desire to stay in the Minato Ward, where the Japanese division of Cure Inc is headquartered.

Professional relationships are complex and frequently fraught with danger. Do their artistic disagreements place their familial relationships in jeopardy?

"Not at all," Hitachiin Sr. denies. "It is a new dimension to the existing relationship. You must arrange your priorities. It is a matter of self-discipline and trust. You have to trust that your family will pull you aside for things that are unrelated to work."

The twins – seated on both sides of their mother – are nodding in sync.

"Just as we don't let the fact that we are family stop us from expressing our professional opinions," Hikaru affirms, and his brother says, "It goes both ways."

Judging from their previous answer, it is unlikely that any of them have difficulty critiquing their family members' works?

All three react in a perfect chorus: "No, never!"

They laugh, familiar and at ease.

The brothers agree that it is important for them to prove themselves as worthy successors. "Our mother does have high expectations," Hikaru concedes, provoking a toothy smile from Hitachiin Sr., "but we put the most pressure on ourselves. The way we see it, we shouldn't allow ourselves to inherit unless we can make it prosper. We can't let ourselves down, or our mother, or our whole family, really."

"Taking things for granted is the surest way to lose them," Hitachiin-Ootori concurs. "Right now, we are not concentrating so much on these issues. Those are things that should be put aside. What we need to do is work hard. Our mother will know if the time is right."

Their mother appears gratified by their commitment. Empires are not built in a day, but they may certainly be torn down in one. With children who adopt such a sober attitude towards their immensely privileged birth, perhaps she is considering retirement when she turns 51 on the 18th of February this year?

The expression on her face is sharply withering. "Not on your life."

– **Verdict: alternately rife with falsehoods and piercing insights. An engaging read.**

.

Affixed is a post-it note:

**Dinner at 7? **

**I'll pick you up at the atelier.**

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

2. **(February, 29 years old, Fifth Avenue penthouse)**

Kaoru is boiling, physically and metaphorically.

"Hikaru, for fuck's sake," he shouts into the phone, pacing agitatedly about the house. "We need to give Emily time to make it! Just because she is the _première__ main_ doesn't mean she has magic! Even if the new batch of leather arrives right this instant, we still won't have enough time to finish the dress! We're just going to leave it out of the show, okay?"

He leans against the kitchen bench, feeling rather faint from the fever. All he'd wanted was a glass of water before returning to bed. Alas, luck is not on his side.

"It's my design, of course I'm disappointed, idiot!" he says, rubbing his eyes wearily. The intermittent chills and heat are making his bones hurt. "But I don't want to do it half-heartedly! You know we tried using that other fabric as replacement; it's just not stiff enough to hold the shape. It looked like a failed meringue, Hikaru."

Hikaru lets out a string of curses at the ex-intern who'd accidentally set off the sprinkler system in their storage warehouse because he'd been lazy and careless, lighting up a cigarette right at its entrance instead of moving further away and totally destroying their specially treated leather. Hikaru asks if Kaoru can tweak the design to allow for a drape to compensate for the unfinished torso. It's a real pity not to show it, he says.

"I know," Kaoru sighs, making his way to the atelier. Thematically speaking, it's unlikely that this dress will be recycled for use in another season. "Ugh, okay, you know what? The more I study this dress, the more I hate it. The collection can stand without it."

His brother erupts into a barrage of disagreements; Kaoru doesn't hear him, distracted by the unexpected 'ding' of the elevator in their private lift lobby.

The front doors swing open to reveal Kyouya – who appears to be shirking his duties for the day – looking rather bewildered to find him awake and about.

An automatic smile tugs at Kaoru's lips, reciprocated immediately by his husband until his husband realises what he is doing with the phone and sketches in his hands.

"Uhhh, Hikaru, I'm going to have to hang up. Kyouya's home and glaring at me."

"Wait! The dress, yes or no? Emily and I can try to modify it!"

If anything, Kyouya's expression intensifies at Hikaru's refusal to shut up. He marches over to Kaoru in four long strides and confiscates the phone in one smooth motion. "Hitachiin Hikaru, are you or are you not aware that Kaoru is unwell?"

"Er, um, yeah," Hikaru stammers. Kaoru can imagine his contrite expression with no difficulty. "Wasn't I the one who told you that! You know he'll kill me if I don't ask him about this. He cares about his work more than – "

"And are you or are you not aware that sick people require plenty of rest?" Kyouya interrupts curtly. "I see that you have not factored in the possibility that _I_ might be the one to kill you."

"_Oooh_," Hikaru sasses. "Says the person who attends board meetings while coughing his lungs out."

Recognising the warning signs, Kaoru kisses Kyouya's cheek and quickly steals the phone back.

"Just one minute. One. Please?" he begs, and steamrolls on without waiting for Kyouya to agree, "Look, Hikaru, we've got enough on our plate with the rest of the collection. I think we should focus on those first."

"We are! But that dress is _part of the collection_! By the way, we're having a hell of a lot of problems with the feather skirt. It sits unevenly on the model's waist and Emily says that the stitching will pucker up if – "

It's very difficult to pay attention when Kyouya fuses their bodies together and starts doing _things_. He's clearly decided that playing hardball isn't going to get him the results he desires and he's switched tactics.

_Manipulative copycat._

"Right, exactly. So let's solve those first!" Kaoru says through gritted teeth, squirming in the embrace.

Kyouya has begun backing him into their room, step by step.

"No! Forget it, Hikaru. I'm throwing it away now, okay?" he announces, recklessly crumpling up the sketch near the mouthpiece of the phone and flinging it to who-knows-where. "Hear that? I'm chucking it. It's gone. No more worrying about it. End of story. I'm going now, bye."

Before he can press the button on their cordless, he finds himself locked in a masterful kiss.

"Well, this role reversal business never gets old," he comments breathlessly when Kyouya lets him up for air. This type of occurrence typically happens only once or twice a year; usually Kyouya is the one shouting into the phone – no, _issuing orders_ in cutting and deadly tones that rip his lackeys to shreds, while Kaoru is the one covering his neck with fluttery, butterfly kisses to show his support.

He can feel Kyouya's smirk against his collarbone.

"Does this mean that I should do to you what you usually do to me?" Kaoru asks innocently.

Kyouya chuckles, the sound low and seductive. "Ordinarily, you would already be on the receiving end of some _stress relief_, but today the answer is 'no'. Your temperature doesn't need raising."

"Aww. Please? I'll lie very still; you can do all the work."

Kyouya's gaze is darkly amused. "You? Lie still?"

Kaoru cannot stop his lips from pushing into a pout at how insufferably smug he looks. He turns his back on Kyouya deliberately, swinging his hips with a devil-may-care attitude. "My, complimenting your own skill. How shameless."

"Your reactions are compliment enough," Kyouya rejoins.

Prepared to scowl indignantly, he faces Kyouya only to be pushed onto the bed without further ado. "Go on, under the covers. That headache of yours must feel terrible by now."

Loathe as Kaoru is to admit it, he's right. Obediently, he slips in and makes himself comfortable, and Kyouya pulls the thin blanket up over him. It hits him, then, that Kyouya is _here_ – with him, for him; all the sharp pangs of longing that have been building up in him are rising up to strangle him.

"It is awful," Kaoru concedes, "but not seeing you for an entire week is so much worse."

It happens _every single time_ during the lead-up to the two fashion seasons, no matter how much they plan, no matter how much they try. Funny, when he'd been a child he'd blamed his mother a little for being absent, for making them miss her – never would he have guessed that professional accomplishment could contain such a bitter aftertaste. The inevitability of it all, the yawning chasm of that endless missing… these days when he meets her, he truly _sees_ her, and forgiveness had crept up on him like the sensation of falling asleep – gradual and unremarkable, but the path to something necessary and essential to life.

"You're wonderful for putting up with this," he says, kissing Kyouya's knuckles.

"Silly creature," Kyouya chides. "How many times have I told you that that is not the case?"

Kaoru laughs weakly. He is utterly relaxed and content, and now – now too, he finally understands why his mother and grandmother are in the habit of bringing their husbands along to wherever they are going.

"You can go back to the office if you want. I can manage from here," he tells Kyouya, because what he honestly wants to say is, '_stay_', and 'don't go', and 'come to bed with me' even though it's only three in the afternoon.

His eyes fall shut; Kyouya leans over and brushes a lingering kiss on his right eyelid, then the left.

Moving silently as always, he exits the room.

Kaoru drifts hazily, listening to the pounding drumbeats of his head. They really are unnaturally loud and relentless.

_Oh, crap. I forgot._

He'd been sidetracked from taking his afternoon dose of the medicine!

In his muddled state, he contemplates how upset Kyouya will be with him if he skips the dose. He can't lift his head from the pillow; it's too much effort. Seven years they have lived here, and this is the closest that Kaoru has ever come to regretting their joint decision not to employ live-in domestic servants in order to enjoy greater privacy. No, no regrets at all for a place that is theirs and theirs alone.

Just as he is summoning his energy to sit up, the bed dips on one side.

"You're still awake. Good. You've forgotten to take your medicine," Kyouya states, ridiculously certain about it. "I've brought it for you."

Kaoru struggles to rouse himself, and when he succeeds he can only _stare_.

"I know the prescription," Kyouya explains, not needing to be prompted. He pokes two tablets out of their foil capsules. "At your level of severity, you would have been given 10 tablets to start. There are 8 here, when there should be only 6."

Kaoru smiles, heart in his throat. "Thank you."

He hands the glass back to Kyouya after he's done with the pills, and to his unending amazement Kyouya produces a damp, ice-cold cloth and presses it onto his forehead.

"It's almost unbelievable that this is the first time you've fallen sick due to a fashion show. I would've expected it to happen earlier, and more often," Kyouya remarks.

"Aren't you – "

"I'm not going anywhere."

There is so much that Kaoru wants to say, but nothing he needs to say.

Kyouya settles into his side of the bed and holds Kaoru to himself. His scent, his presence, the rhythm of his breathing; they feel like _home_.

"Careful, I don't want you falling sick too," Kaoru mumbles.

"I hardly ever do. Ootoris are very health-conscious."

"I seem to recall a particular board meeting – "

He is silenced with another kiss. Kyouya could have said, "health-conscious does not mean invincible", or "one board meeting means the exception and not the rule", both are completely logical and reasonable, but they choose to make it absurdly easy for each other to demand and obtain kisses, surrendering victory in fights or in arguments for a mutually pleasing solution instead.

It just makes so much sense to them.

Nestling snugly against Kyouya as crisp, pitch-perfect English washes over him, he tries to force himself to remain conscious for as long as possible to savour the bliss of this transient moment.

"… more than a moral duty to speak one's mind. It becomes a pleasure."

Kyouya is no Tamaki. In reading aloud, he does not do voices nor feels the compunction to do so. However, there's one thing that Kaoru suspects he does subconsciously, a fact that he has been consistently reluctant to bring to Kyouya's attention because of how _cute_ it is – elegant elocution aside, Kyouya always sounds a smidge snobbier when he is reading the parts of highborn characters.

"… glad to say that I have never seen a spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widely different."

He sniggers, though this is by no means the first time he's heard the story. _God_, Kyouya always knows the right book to read to cheer him up.

And, just as he thinks of knotting their hands together, Kyouya reaches for him first.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

3. **(March, 29 years old, Hawaii)**

"Hmm, I thought you said you were sufficiently rested. Will you enlighten me as to why you appear to remain on a sleep-deprived high?" Kyouya says in a monotone.

Kaoru laughs in response and races down the expanse of fine, moonlit sand, his grass skirt flapping in the wind. His husband trails behind, breezing along the shoreline like the epitome of cool.

Far in the distance, the lights of the little local bar twinkle brightly. The occasional outburst of merrymaking travels to them; they are a world away, safe under the cover of nightfall and free from the burdens of work.

He stops and inhales the saltwater smell, wriggling his toes when the receding wave buries it in sand-cement.

Immediately after the chaos of February, Kyouya had whisked him away, installed him in a villa and ordered him to sleep for as long as was needed. _No disruptions_, Kyouya had said when taking them off the face of the earth – _I haven't brought my laptop, and you can't bring your phone_.

And Kaoru had woken up to warm limbs and unshielded black-grey eyes, then food, and spa, and the feeling of weightlessness and immortality.

His skin tingles with the heat of a gaze.

"Like what you see?" he asks, like he had at the start of _them_.

"I suppose," Kyouya replies nonchalantly.

Slowly, purposefully, Kaoru removes the tropical flower _lei_ and unties the coconut shells. They roll off his fingers soundlessly. "Better?"

"Quite."

He pivots on his heels and watches Kyouya from underneath his lashes. Kyouya is a paradox, a furnace in a fridge – an incandescent core enclosed within a self-possessed and level-headed being, with a pale complexion that better complements cool colours and extremities that are perpetually freezing.

Layer after layer of time has not dimmed the force of Kaoru's desire. Still his pulse races, still the fire pools in his gut, still the willingness to yield all of himself.

In the shifting shades of darkness, Kyouya is king; Kaoru is helpless to resist the sultry draw of that gravity. He goes where he is summoned, and presses his whole body into Kyouya's like a solemn vow. The skirt rustles against his thigh, its leaves limp from prolonged wear and light perspiration from when Kaoru had entertained the locals and tourists in an impromptu performance – a decoy, for his true motives had been to tempt and lead astray. He hooks his thumb in the waistband, a little bit coy, as if to say, 'more?'

Languidly, Kyouya flicks his eyes from head to toe provocatively, and _does not cede_.

They often play games with each other to hide the fact that they do not actually play games with each other. Between them is honesty, both its brutality and its comfort – their reasoning is twisted: you are not a game to me, _this_ is not a game to me, it's so real that I can hardly bear it, so let's play.

To pursue and be pursued, to build and to destroy the other, that is their way. They are plotters, elaborate in strategy and patient in execution, driving each other up the wall until one of them gives in and slams the other into the bed or against the nearest available surface.

As he presses his mouth against Kyouya's, he becomes aware that he will not triumph today. Kyouya's perseverance will hold fast. They will return to the villa while still enmeshed in this impasse, lying side by side in close proximity and half-deranged with want. The night will be sleepless and interminable, but never mind, because come morning Kyouya's defences will crack and this round will belong to him.

Come morning, he will climb on top of Kyouya and challenge him, an echo of their very first time: 'What's the use of liking what you see if you're not going to do anything about it?'

He may have acquiesced to leaving his phone at home (thus condemning Hikaru to despair), but he never travels without his Hermès scarves, and tomorrow he shall show Kyouya just what he can do with them.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

4. **(April, 29 years old, Fifth Avenue penthouse)**

Kyouya wakes up at 12:27 PM on the 12th. Kaoru can't do much else than stare at him with a stupid, goofy grin. He leans over and seals their lips together, exacerbating and extending Kyouya's adorably disoriented state.

"Mmph," Kyouya says. "Good morning."

"Good afternoon," Kaoru corrects, letting his hands roam everywhere. He nods at the congratulatory cards on the sidetable. "My parents and Fuyumi-neesan send their love."

Surprised, Kyouya props himself up on his elbows. "Why didn't you wake me earlier? We would've been able to spend more time together."

"Well," Kaoru replies fondly, crawling up to straddle his waist, "that was meant as a present, Low Blood Pressure Evil Lord."

Kyouya huffs in disapproval. "It's our anniversary. I can catch up on sleep some other time."

"You can but you won't," Kaoru scolds. "And you say I'm the silly one."

"Only because you are," Kyouya snarks, fully alert as he rolls them over. "You think I want to sleep when there are other more interesting things I would prefer to do?"

"We have a lunch booking at one," Kaoru feels compelled to mention before speech becomes an impossibility. The others will be waiting at the restaurant and it's going to be so awkward to explain if they're not on time. They have a tradition: everyone meets up to celebrate the wedding anniversaries of club members during lunchtime, and dinner is meant for the couple alone – it's an homage to the irrefutable truth that none of their marriages could have been realised without the support of the rest. That one time that Mori and his wife had been late, Haruhi and Hikaru hadn't been able to look at them for _hours _until it'd been revealed that they'd been delayed from having to console their son, who'd flipped out at being left behind.

It's an adults' gathering; the parents tend not to bring the children along, but it's not like they'll be able to blame their tardiness on any children, is it?

Kyouya doesn't even acknowledge it, appearing for all the world as though he could not _possibly_ care less. To be frank, Kaoru feels a growing indifference to the consequences, too.

When they stroll in twenty minutes late, Hikaru takes one look at him and declares, "I don't want to know."

"I wasn't going to tell you anyway!" Kaoru retorts.

As with the Mori incident, Honey is the worst, the absolute worst. He is the picture of innocence but one cannot shake the creeping suspicion that an incredible evil is concealed behind those large (knowing) eyes. With Reiko-san at his side, the effect is horrifically amplified.

Kaoru listens as Kyouya receives status updates of his goddaughter, then joins Hikaru in recounting the story of the blasted ex-intern. They lend their ears to Haruhi when she tells them of her desire to obtain a higher degree, and heckle Tamaki when he tries to hint at his desire to have more children.

They pass the afternoon this way, carefree and young. Their friends ply them with gifts and well-wishes, especially Tamaki, who has a great deal of leftover exuberance from his birthday a few days prior. Sometimes Kyouya rues that they picked April to get married, but auspicious dates being what they are, well… there'd been the drizzle of spring rain on the day, too – a good omen.

In the evening they go to The Met to drown in soaring music and to grope each other surreptitiously in the opera box, and when they return home, Kaoru gives Kyouya the simplest gift he's ever given: a card.

_My beloved Kyouya,_

_And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others._

_And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about._

_Kafka on the Shore, Haruki Murakumi_

_Thank you for choosing me after your storm._

_Yours, Kaoru_

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

5. **(May, 29 years old, Morinozuka estate)**

"Hikaru-ojichan!"

As soon as they arrive Masaya toddles up to a very doting Hikaru, who picks him up without hesitation and throws him into the air, once, twice, and they cuddle each other like they've never known anyone else more perfect.

"What, don't I get a greeting?" Kaoru grouses.

It is one of the mysteries of the universe why Mori's son is so irrationally, madly attached to Hikaru. In the arena of speech, the boy had been a slow learner; however once he'd discovered its joys, it'd become his favourite thing ever – he talks _a lot_, almost as though he's made it his life mission to fill his father's quota on his behalf.

"Yes you do, Kao-chan," Honey laughs. Kaoru bends down slightly for Honey to kiss his forehead. Honey had grown a bit taller after high school; he's about 1.57 m now, below average and still shorter than Yasuchika.

"Come and have tea, Hikaru- and Kaoru-ojichan!" Masaya exhorts, dragging Hikaru into the house eagerly. "Otousan says that you'll be tired after the long flight."

Kaoru yawns involuntarily in agreement. He and Hikaru had come here directly after landing for Mori's birthday party. This whole Tokyo-New York setup is exhausting; that they manage to squeeze each other into their hectic lives is a testament of their commitment to their little club. It's a complex situation: when Honey goes to the U.S. to provide combat training, he makes it a point to visit the twins and Kyouya; Tamaki and Haruhi similarly make the effort when they circle the globe to the host countries of the multinational Suou Corporation; as for the twins and Kyouya, they primarily oscillate between their bases of operations in the two cities. Hikaru, Kaoru and Tamaki also often go to France.

They owe much to Mori for not drifting apart. Solid as a rock, he anchors them to Tokyo steadfastly, being the only one of them who is not effectively nomadic.

Over on the tatami mat, Kyouya gives him a long-suffering look. The only clarification that Kaoru needs is the sight of Tamaki seated beside him.

"Kaoru!" Tamaki exclaims in anguish. "My daughter is going through a rebellious phase!"

"Hai, hai," Kaoru says, giving Tamaki a hug. Tamaki fairly crushes him into scrap. "So Lila-chan didn't invite you to her piano recital. Haruhi and you had work anyway."

"I could have postponed it!" Tamaki squawks, turning on the waterworks. "I would have! There's nothing more important to a father than his children!"

Tamaki has been traumatised about this for two days, inundating them with phone calls to bemoan the cruelty of his firstborn. They'd suggested that perhaps she had felt shy about having to perform for her talented father, and Tamaki had informed them that her teacher had pronounced her to be musically prodigious.

The shoji door slides open, a miniature Haruhi walks into the room clutching a book that appears to be from the Morinozuka library. Suou Chie, or Lila Chie Régine-Avril Suou (Hikaru had rolled his eyes – "Just because she's your daughter doesn't mean her name has to be as bombastic as yours, Tono.") goes to the corner and starts reading, entirely unruffled by the commotion.

"Kyouya! She listens to you! Tell her – tell her she must – "

"I'm really not anyone's mother, you know," Kyouya says dryly.

"But her mother doesn't see anything wrong with it!" Tamaki screeches, distraught by the inscrutable natures of the women in his family.

"Chie," Hikaru intervenes, taking pity on him (or perhaps it's for the sake of his eardrums), "apologise to your father and say that you'll invite him next time."

"Yes," Honey backs him up. "Chie-chan's father really loves Chie-chan, and he also loves music like Chie-chan, ne?"

"No, Papa can't come," she rejects them flat out.

"_Gaaahn!_" Tamaki is blown to smithereens. Masaya's jaw drops; he claps, entertained by the spectacle.

Kyouya sighs. "Lila, come here."

Compliantly, she sets her book down and settles herself on Kyouya's lap.

"Tell Godfather why you won't allow your parents to attend your recital," Kyouya says in a tone that brooks no refusal.

"Eh…?" she says, tilting her head to the right like she's the one who's perplexed. "Papa and Mama are tired. If they come to watch Chie, they'll have to work on the weekends."

"Huh? Huh?" everyone reacts explosively. Tamaki is brought to his knees by the revelation.

"There, you see? I can't believe you've been married to Haruhi for years. It baffles me that you continue to be unaccustomed to their brand of bluntness, Tamaki."

Hikaru pats Tamaki on the back, evidently feeling much more charitable to his plight.

"L – Lila-chan," Kaoru says, "you have to explain these sorts of things otherwise your father will get the wrong idea."

She looks at him with enormous chocolate-hued eyes. "Mama said she explained it to Papa."

Fortunately, Haruhi and Mori arrive before Tamaki disintegrates. Both of them are suited up lawyerly, so polished that Kaoru has to marvel at the tailoring.

Tamaki surges forward and seizes his wife by the shoulders. "Haruhi! It's not that Chie didn't want us there, she was trying to be a filial daughter! Why didn't you tell me?"

Haruhi blinks. "I did!"

Her husband emits several gurgling sounds.

"Are you certain, Haruhi?" Kyouya questions.

"Yes, it was just yesterday!" she answers. "On the phone, remember? I told you that she hadn't invited us because it upsets her that she doesn't get to spend much time with us."

"Exactly! Weren't you saying that she was angry we'd been neglecting her?" Tamaki says at the same time that Honey says, "Haru-chan, that's quite misleading", which had been interspersed with Hikaru's "What? Huh? What?"

Haruhi blinks again. "No, Chie wants us to keep our weekends free so she can have us all to herself. She wouldn't want us to push our meetings back when she can easily play the piano for us at home."

Absolute silence.

Kaoru recovers first, collapsing on Kyouya while doubled over with laughter. Kyouya pinches the bridge of his nose in an act of supreme forbearance.

"Can we celebrate Takashi-senpai's birthday now?" Hikaru asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"Yay! Birthday!" Masaya chirps, showing off the fresh addition to his vocabulary.

The food is duly served for them to commence having a riot of a time.

Over cake, Kaoru meets Kyouya's eyes.

_I want to draw those expressions._

_Of course_, Kyouya responds. _I already have a story in mind._ _How can we relinquish the chance to commemorate such idiocy?_

_Five frames, do you think?_

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

6. **(June, the day Kaoru turns 30 years old, Paris)**

A card:

_My precious Kaoru,_

_Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are._

_Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident._

_Captain Corelli's Mandolin, __Louis de Bernières_

_But after that storm had ripped the pretty blossoms from their branches, I knew for sure that all that was left over of me is tangled up with you._

_Happy birthday._

_Yours, Kyouya_

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

7. **(August-September, 30 years old, New York atelier of Flamingo&Maya)**

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Thursday, 31 August 2023, 11:43 PM<p>

I miss you horribly :((((

My yearning for you has approached such shameful levels that I have resorted to writing haikus for you:

_Lingering along  
>with you, I long the longer<br>to belong with you._

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Thursday, 31 August 2023, 11:52 PM<p>

Dearest, wouldn't your energy be better utilised elsewhere?

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Thursday, 31 August 2023, 11:57 PM<p>

Are you in your office? Is that why you sound heartless? T3T

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:00 AM<p>

Yes, I am.

I'd rather you finish your work and go home with me.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:03 AM<p>

We estimate that if we toil ceaselessly for all of tomorrow – oh, it's today now – and Saturday, we deserve a rest on Sunday! Emily is confident that the team will still make the deadline.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:10 AM<p>

Excellent news. I will clear my calendar in anticipation of it.

After the show I shall abduct you.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:17 AM<p>

You can answer to my mother when I don't turn up for Paris Week.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:20 AM<p>

Oh? Minutes ago you professed a wish to belong to me. To permit yourself to be abducted is truancy on your part. As I have proven myself to be consistently responsible, your mother will believe you to be the delinquent.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:21 AM<p>

Fiend.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:21 AM<p>

You assume that I will be your willing captive.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:21 AM<p>

Maple syrup tour. Québec, Vermont, New Hampshire.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:22 AM<p>

Your evilness knows no bounds.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:22 AM<p>

Why thank you.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:23 AM<p>

A bargain: after _both_ the NY and Paris shows. I'll allow you to have your wicked way with me.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:23 AM<p>

I'm curious: when do you not allow me to have my wicked way with you?

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:23 AM<p>

Continue in this vein and you may find out when. Last offer: I'll join you for the bloody takeover I know you're planning.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:24 AM<p>

Interesting. Do you mean to convince your father to champion my cause?

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:24 AM<p>

I'm your champion, silly. My shares are at your disposal. My dad has long resigned himself to the inescapable fate of his son-in-law usurping the sovereignty over his company.

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:24 AM<p>

All that I conquer is to serve you better, my Kaoru.

Here are my terms: collaboration on the takeover AND your patient understanding while I am swamped in work AND allowing me to spoil you rotten.

Do we have an accord?

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:24 AM<p>

Deal.

I'm going back to work so that Hikaru can have a break.

Go home and rest, please?

.

From: Hitachiin-Ootori Kyouya  
>To: Hitachiin-Ootori Kaoru<br>Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: At what point does caffeine lose its efficacy?  
>Date: Friday, 1 September 2023, 12:25 AM<p>

All right. Please take care of yourself.

I miss you, too.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Notes

(a) It took 3 days to write snapshots 2-7, and the article in snapshot 1 required 3 days on its own. Omg. Journalists and reporters, I do not at all share Yuzuha's opinion about your profession. The creation of the backstory for the Hitachiin legacy was frightfully difficult, though I wanted to do it because it was a way of transmitting a vast amount of information for the framework of this story.

That, and I _adore _mixed-media stories. Believe me, I would have drawn the 5-panel comic if I could.

Hitachiin Amaterasu (常陸院 · 天照): Obviously, in true Hitachiin style, she is a strong character. Her regal name is meant to reflect this. 'Amaterasu' is composed of the elements ama "heaven, sky" and terasu "to shine," hence "shining over heaven." In mythology, this is the name of a sun goddess who rules the heavens.

Hitachiin Tadao (常陸院 · 忠夫): His name means "loyal man".

And I have searched for a suitable name for dear Mr Hitachiin _for ages and ages_. I love the twins' parents, can you tell? Here it is:

Hitachiin Yasuhiro (常陸院 · 泰裕): Yasuhiro can actually be written in one of 4 different kanji.

1 - 泰裕: "calm and leisurely"

2 - 泰弘: "most calm"

3 - 恭弘: "most respectful"

4 - 泰博: "abundant tranquillity"

Yes, the point is that he is an OASIS OF CALM. *cracks up*

(b) The twins' comments about playing off each other are actually from Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen.

(c) At the end of snapshot 2, Kyouya is reading The Importance of Being Earnest, by Oscar Wilde.

(d) Morinozuka Masaya (銛之塚 · 昌也) is named after the actor who plays Mori in the Ouran live action. The other cast members report that Nakamura Masaya talks a lot.

(e) The kanji for Suou Chie: 須王· 智恵

To be frank, I am ludicrously proud of this name: Lila Chie Régine-Avril Suou. Each individual name carries a _meaning_, and hunting and piecing the name together so that it makes sense and sounds nice was an awful task. I must have changed it 10-15 times.

.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to everyone who read; reviewed; read and reviewed.

It is all right if you haven't watched the movie that the story is based on. After all, I extracted only the premise and nothing else. The other instalments of the Movie Adaptations Series (if I manage to make them a reality) will also only have been inspired by the original book/movie.

It made me _sad_, to note that some of you think that this fic will (probably) make you cry. Because, really I just wrote this to indulge in _shameless, gratuitous domestic fluff_. This chapter would have alerted you to that fact. LOL. Please do not misunderstand the purpose of this fic. THE PURPOSE OF THIS FIC IS INSTANT GRATIFICATION.

You see, a lot of the time, writers start a fic and they can't ever be sure that they will finish it. This is a problem because one of the things that I like in a fic is the simmering build-up of a believable relationship. I can make all sorts of promises, but I can't ever be sure that I will complete it until it actually happens. And if I don't finish it, neither I nor anyone who reads it will get to the good parts.

So, the concept of "a love story told in reverse" appealed to me – it meant that I could go backwards and do the other thing I like best, which is FLUFF, SUGARY, TOOTHACHE-GIVING FLUFF.

My one wish, and the greatest challenge of writing BAR, is that Kyouya and Kaoru's relationship is _real _to you. I hope that anyone who reads this will feel that they've really had a life together – _made_ it together, _lived_ it together, so that even though you don't know (yet) what they've been through to get here, you know that they are happy to be here with each other.

Writing this chapter was pure joy for me, I hope it puts a smile on your face too!

31/8/2011


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